


Snowflake, Sweetcake

by gimmefire



Series: Narcissism [5]
Category: Green Day, The Network
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-09
Updated: 2006-01-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It took him a while to notice that it wasn't completely silent out there.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflake, Sweetcake

**Author's Note:**

> Research for this led me to find out that the last time it snowed in Oakland may have been 1976, but don't take my word for it.

Fuck, when was the last time it snowed in Oakland? Billie couldn't remember. Actually, there was a vague memory of it when he was a child, maybe four or five, looking at the sky with his huge hazel eyes like the clouds were breaking apart. Still, it wasn't much of a snow, he remembered it laying for about a half hour, enough time for his mother to truss him up like a disgustingly patterned cranberry, his siblings to laugh at him, him to punch one of them, and then to narrowly avoid getting sent to his room. By the time he got outside, the snow was already melting and all he managed was a sorry looking slurry ball that disintegrated into grey slop before he had a chance to hurl it at anyone. Nah, couldn't really call that snow.

But now…Jesus! It had been unusually cold this winter, but cold enough for snow? Cold enough for it to throw down a good seven inches of the stuff overnight? He guessed so. Fuck it, it was evidence enough that he couldn't start the car, the kids were given the day off from school…and being woken up by a huge white ball of fuckin' cold and fuckin' wet exploding on his head, courtesy of Adrienne.

Initial rage was swiftly followed by ohitis _so_ on.

Forgoing their back yard for the park, the four of them dived in with all the ammo they could dream of at their disposal. When Jakob had tired, they settled into the whole snowmen, snow angels, snow oranges (Joey's idea, Billie had no fuckin' clue) routine. On discovering the need for sticks for their snowmen's arms, Billie volunteered to trek off into the wooded area for them. In reality, he damn near ran there, the excitement over practically nothing bubbling up inside him until he actually giggled aloud.

He cast his eyes around the little forest, the tree's stark black branches reaching to the sky like dark veins. It was so crisp and clean and quiet out there…for a while he just stood, hands in his pockets, breathing out twists of steam into the pure air. Then he let his eyes close, standing as still as he could and listening to the silence.

It took him a while to notice that it wasn't completely silent out there. The sound that was there was so faint, so soft that if it weren't for his 'musician's ear', or whateverthefuck you could call it, he probably wouldn't have heard it at all. But it was there, definitely.

A hiss. A constant, quiet hiss. Not reptilian, not feline, not human.

Billie turned around to find the source of the noise, eyes scanning the almost colourless landscape. They came to rest a little way away, up on a small embankment. It took him a few seconds to register exactly what he was seeing. Exactly _who_ he was seeing.

The sight of such a stark red against the monochrome trees and snow alone was enough to make something spark in his brain. Like something Technicolor had just stepped into a black and white movie, a sudden brilliance that made him stop and gasp quietly.

Fink could still take his breath away.

His demon stood there, serene, still, pointed tail drifting this way and that just barely behind him, almost in slow motion. Light reflecting off that suit, shining bright like it was radiating from his body. His jet black lips, stark against pale skin, smiled soft, his eyes almost glowing with warmth as he looked right back at Billie. Some god-like figure that had appeared from nowhere.

Or come back from the dead.

As Billie stared up at Fink, the tiny hairs over every inch of his body rising at the sight, he realised what the hissing noise had been. Eyes drifting down Fink's radiant form, stopping on reaching his feet. The demon was standing in grass. A small patch of wet, green grass surrounded his feet, slowly growing larger with each passing minute. The branches that were near him were bare, water dripping from them quietly. A faint cloud of steam pooled around his feet, thin wreaths drifting and clawing for the sky.

The snow around him was melting.

Billie felt his heart stop for just a moment.

The stillness was incredible. Billie felt that if he moved, it would all shatter and go away. Words lodged in his throat, constricting, turning all this into a freeze frame. His breath continued to roll from parted lips, fogging the air in front of him, making Fink fade a little. It took him a few moments, then, to realise that the demon was moving, had turned around and begun descending the embankment. Something jarred through him, maybe nothing more than delayed shock, making his body shudder. He remained where he was for a few long moments, the air crackling, buzzing around him, like it was willing him to move, to take some kind of action. His wide eyes dropped to Fink's footprints, the snow melted away, patches of vibrant green sprouting forth from the blankness. The soft hissing continued. As the demon's form disappeared from view, Billie finally called out, a sudden sharp bark of a word stumbling from his throat and into the atmosphere.

"W-wait--!"

A second passed where Billie wondered if the freezing air had caught his plea, allowing it to travel no further, keeping it from Fink's ears. Spurred on by this, his legs jerked into life, taking him off after his demon. His chest felt tight, his lungs wrought breathless, this sudden consuming desperation gripping him in a vice as he ran. It felt like he couldn't run fast enough. Clambering up the slippery hill, his eyes were drawn straight to the violent streak of red resting against a tree. A breath, and he followed the rounded patches of wet grass, the footprints, down to Fink. Thoughts of his waiting family had all but vanished from his captured mind.

The devil was still smiling, watching Billie approach, a delicious warmth in his eyes and on his lips. Water dripped from the branches nearest him, tiny bright crystals falling to the frozen earth all around him.

Billie slowed as he came closer, hazel eyes meeting hazel eyes, until he came to a stop a bare few feet from Fink. The demon smiled wider. It was so warm and…loving. Just like the arms that slid around Billie's waist and pulled him close. Their foreheads came to rest together, Billie's breath hitched from full, parted lips, heart thumping hard in his chest. Fink breathed smooth and even, seemingly content to bask in their proximity.

Slowly, Billie tilted his head, raising his lips towards Fink's, at first doing nothing more than letting them hover there, trembling slightly and feeling Fink's breath warm them. His eyes flickered nervously, heavy-lidded and dark. His arms hung limp and heavy by his sides, a physical translation of his ambivalence. He stood and let himself be held, let himself feel nervousness thrum through him and almost vibrate with it. After all, this was Fink, the original Fink.

The one he'd almost - _almost_ \- fallen for all those months ago.

He moved his head just a little, his lips brushing so scarcely against the painted ones before them. He heard Fink breath the softest noise at the contact. God, this was all such beautiful, necessary agony. He moved his head again, lips again just barely touching his demon's. He swore he heard Fink purr. A small tremor pulsed through him. God, Fink's eyes…they were just pools of warmth and energy, focussing solely on him. Adoring him. It felt like they'd stepped clean out of reality and into their own special, private little world. Fuck, it was…it was…

That soft hiss of melting snow filled his ears as he nudged at Fink's nose, finally bringing his lips up to press soft against the demon's. He whimpered, eyes closing tight in wordless ecstasy at the touch, the scent, the taste… The warmth Fink possessed flowed through his body like water, right to his fingertips, his toes, enwrapping his mind and washing away the tension holding him. Fink sighed, breath rolling over Billie's cheek as their achingly tender kiss deepened, lips parting just a little. The weight on Billie's arms seemed to lift, and they drifted up of their own accord to slide around the vinyl-wrapped back, pulling himself breathlessly close to press against the demon's chest. He keened quietly as their mouths slid together, feeling his heart settle to beat alternately with the red-suited being's.

Life ran in slow motion, warmth from the two entwined bodies finding the air around them. The world fell silent in reverence for the sound and the sight of this one beautiful kiss.

It was…complete.

 

Billie opened his eyes. A second passed before he sat upright in his bed.

Dream.

He remained still and breathed for a few long moments, last traces of the incredible, indescribable warmth his unconscious mind had inflicted on him drifting steadily away. He swallowed and glanced to his side, seeing no Adrienne slumbering peacefully beside him. Oh, that was right…he'd been instructed to go take a nap. To relax. To stop thinking for once.

He'd been home for two and a half weeks, and still found himself trying to settle back into the routine of everyday life. Being locked up away from the world as a sex slave will do that to you. On that last day, the day they escaped and the Network's headquarters burned to the ground, everything had changed. Everything.

He couldn't leave Fink. Something the demon had said that early morning had echoed like tunnel noise in his head.

_"Th-there's a voice in my head and my heart that calls me to you…"_

Billie heard it too. No matter what Fink had done, no matter the neglect, no matter the mental or physical abuse he'd suffered, he couldn't leave the demon. Some possibly misguided, hazy spark in his mind, some beat in his heart, decided to take Fink home with him. Much to the displeasure of Mike and Tré. Explaining everything that had happened to Adie and Jason (as well as the kids later that day…Jesus…), including this decision, was an experience he hoped he would never have to repeat again. When he was asked why he'd brought his exorcised demon, his month-long captor home…he could give no explanation. He didn't know himself. All he could do was look weakly at the silently shivering devil at his feet and murmur

"I…couldn't leave him."

So…Fink stayed.

Soon after this, though - in fact, the next day, after Billie had slept back in his own bed, with his wife, the covers curled close and warm around them - he changed. Billie found himself unable to look at Fink, to touch him, to approach him. He just…went cold. As if the reality of Fink's misguided deeds had caught up with his recovering mind. In fact, he became scared of the demon. Scared of what he might do.

Which is why today, when Billie's eyes swivelled around to find said blood-suited demon curled at the side of his bed, his skin prickled and he stiffened.

"What are you doing in here? You're not supposed to come in here." he said, voice tight, eyes wide and not moving from the stirring Fink for a second. "You know you're not supposed to come in here."

Fink's equally wide eyes turned up towards him and, abashed, sloped to his feet and headed for the door.

Fink had not been himself either. He was almost nothing of the demon he once was. The combination of the attempt at fixing Billie, the very thought of losing him, and seeing all his creations - his children, in that fucked up sense - strewn all around him, sighing as the last traces of life left them…it all must have…broken him.

Fink hadn't said a word since that morning. He had spent the journey in the car in silence, head in his hands, looking terribly, terribly small. For a while, he hadn't made eye contact with anyone. After great bewilderment from Adrienne - who had been told exactly what Fink was - she had set up a makeshift room for him in the basement. He ate, he washed, he was another member of the household. He never said a thing. In fact, the way he was acting was more like that of an…animal. Still walking upright and everything, still using utensils, still relatively human, but…like a little jigsaw piece was missing from his mind. Some little bit of humanity that had just…sparked out. Devolved.

He was behaving like…a pet.

As Billie watched Fink slink out, his heart throbbed out the last pulse of warmth from his dream, the phantom Fink in his mind. That kiss that just took his soul and swallowed it up. And something occurred to him.

Fink, until now, had not once disobeyed Billie, Adrienne, or the verbal restraints put on him. He was told to stay away and, though visibly saddened, he did so. Perhaps…he was trying to make up for past mistakes. Obeying his other half completely and unquestioningly, atoning for his sins with a vow of silence and abstinence. Perhaps just for the chance to be close to Billie. Perhaps.

Which is why, as Fink's vinyl covered form disappeared from view, Billie called to him.

"Wait."

A second passed, and Fink's head appeared in the doorway, eyes still wide and curious. The leash, still attached to the collar around his neck, swung slow and lazy beneath him. They stared at one another for a while. For a second, Billie's healing wounds seemed to throb as one, reminding him. Admonishing him against the second thoughts that were glinting in his mind.

He ignored them as he patted the bed space before him.

Fink stared at Billie for a moment, incredulous. Then, hesitantly, he padded back into the room, closing the door again behind him. Billie staved off the thrill of anxiety that rippled quietly through him as Fink's gloved hands rested on the edge of his bed. His mind fought itself fiercely, base emotions - fear, curiosity, desire, guilt - pulling him in different directions. Fink crawled onto the bed, Billie's mind jarred with the memory of Fink One doing the same thing all those weeks ago. His hand fisted into the sheets and he remained still.

Fink continued to watch Billie carefully as he crawled, waiting for the slightest change, any inkling that he was going to be shooed away. The demon stopped a foot or two from Billie, resting on his haunches, hand moving back to fidget with his tail nervously. He waited, curious, hopeful.

Then, Billie swallowed and raised his hand. He hesitated for a moment, seeing Fink's eyes brighten a little at his movement, just barely leaning unconsciously towards the hand. Billie heard his heart beat like it had just tripped over itself suddenly, and he lowered his hand again, much to Fink's visible disappointment. That disappointment changed back to wide-eyed incredulity as Billie leaned back a little and patted his lap.

The air swallowed time, or was it that time swallowed air? Everything turned still again, like ice. Like that dream.

The barest squeak as a vinyl-licked body moved slow and fluid, closing the gap between demon and man. The latter sat there stiffly, stomach tied into a neat knot. The former raised gloved hands to rest them by bare, milky tattooed hips, stomach tied into a neat knot. Fink settled into Billie's lap, feeling his face grow hot at their proximity. He tugged once again at his tail as he curled up, twisting and folding until his hands lay light against the other man's chest, his legs tucked underneath him, his masked head lowering to tuck underneath Billie's chin. Billie stopped him, however, a hand coming to smooth along the demon's jaw line and tilt his head back up.

And Fink, the notorious seducer, the wickedly sexual demon, the fiery, flawed beast that stole hearts and souls with ease, let out a tiny squeak of surprise as Billie's lips pressed warm against his.

As Billie felt Fink at first tense up, then settle into his kiss, his own body thrummed with a familiar warmth. His brighter than usual eyes slid shut, losing the world around him and finding a whole other one in these beautiful black lips. One where it was the best kind of cold, and where a devil melted snow with nothing but proximity.

No, not a devil. A creature that had suffered a terrible loss, made hideously misguided choices in the blinkered pursuit of one person, and was now paying the price for such sins. Halfway between a human and a beast, a demon and an angel, the dirt and the heavens. Something that shouldn't exist, but did. And Billie was grateful for that. For him.

God, was he dreaming again?

His arm slid of its own accord around Fink's shoulders, drawing him even closer, parting his lips and shyly inviting that tongue to sweep over his. He couldn't help but whimper quietly at the intimacy, so painfully familiar but…with that one little jigsaw piece missing.

He ached.

He _needed._

Billie broke away, feeling as though God had just trailed fingertips through his soul. Vaguely lightheaded, he held onto Fink, eyes heavy-lidded and swimming with too many clouding emotions. He moved to bury his face in the crook of his twin's neck, breathing himself in, heart beating a loud rhythm. It was all so quiet again.

Eventually, he raised his head again, stubble catching on Fink's striped mask as his head turned, full lips coming to rest parted against the other man's temple. His eyes closed tight as he whispered against the fabric.

"Come back to me."

Fink, after a long moment, pulled back, staring at Billie once again with those huge, curious eyes. Then he smiled. Wide, trusting, and incredibly happy. He nuzzled under his twin's chin adoringly, before settling back down into his lap, curling up like a cat.

Billie watched him settle, watched him until his breathing evened out, watched him until his painted eyes closed. Seconds stretched into minutes, and he watched. A soft hiss as callused fingertips moved lazily over striped fabric, Billie stroked the sleeping creature's cheek. He still felt lightheaded, eyes still dilated and half-open.

He felt that Fink could melt right through him and that would be just fine.

A soft voice rippled through his mind.

_Sweetcake…_

He blinked slowly, suddenly feeling like he hadn't slept at all. Continuing to stroke his...his _folly_ , slumbering silent in his lap, he settled back against the headboard. His eyes were drawn to the window of their own accord, to watch the world outside move without him.

For one brief moment, he saw snowflakes fall.


End file.
